


Off Balance

by StillinTraining



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Growing Up, M/M, Puberty, Viktor is pretty chill about it, Yurio has a little crush on a certain Japanese skater, it's really a lot more tame than it sounds, mentions of mastrubation, puppy crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 20:43:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9565538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StillinTraining/pseuds/StillinTraining
Summary: "Puberty sucked, Yurio decided. It was messy and confusing and overall frustrating. Why did he have to go through this shit?"





	

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, it's really been a while since I wrote anything, but Yuri on Ice motivated me to give it a try. I'm a bit rusty and this idea was born sometime early in the morning before I was fully awake, but I still hope you'll enjoy this little drabble about the "joys" of puberty.

Puberty sucked, Yurio decided. It was messy and confusing and overall frustrating. Why did he have to go through this shit? Things had been fine. He wouldn’t mind if his body staid 15 for the rest of his life. Ok, maybe a little growth spurt would be nice, but that’s it.

It all had started around the end of the season, when the Yuuri Katsuki had moved to St. Petersburg and began training at Yakov’s rink. He had known there was only a short window before his body would change, but he had not thought it would be that short. His muscles pained him from time to time even though he wasn’t hurt; his sense of balance was off even though he did the same things he had always done, and his flexibility got worse despite his training. The other skaters told him his centre of gravity was changing and that he would get used to it, but no one knew when. Hopefully before the next season, Yurio thought bitterly. Next was his voice, which started to crack more often than not now. It was embarrassing and he wanted to skin Mila for always laughing at him. Stupid bitch. He would let Yakov do all the interviews at this year’s Grand Prix, that much was certain. He wouldn’t humiliate himself in front of the media. Not if he could help it.

Of course, as grumpy as he was about it, these changes had been anticipated. The growing, his sense of balance, his voice, those were things people had warned him about for years. They didn’t surprise him as much as they annoyed him. What was surprising, though, where all the other changes. His sense of taste, for example. Just the other day, when he had visited Yuuri and Viktor at their apartment for dinner, the Japanese man had served him a cup of green tea. Yurio hated green tea. Hated bitter things in general. The only reason he had tried it was because Viktor gave him ‘the look’ “Don’t disappoint my fiancé. He made it just for you.” Stupid Viktor. In the end, it wasn’t so bad and Yurio found he actually enjoyed the taste enough to drink another cup. The next day, he had tried coffee again and, for the first time in his life, found it palatable. A few weeks later, he found out that three cubes of sugar were too much for a cup of tea. He had always put in three cubes before.

Another thing was his sense of smell. For years, Yurio had complained about his older rink mates. Had mocked them for being sweaty and smelly after practice and had insisted on opening the windows at Lilia’s ballet studio if there had been students in there before him. Georgi and Viktor had laughed at him when they spotted the deodorant they had bought him for his birthday in March, which he had sworn to throw away and never use. Why the hell did adults have to smell like swine? It was disgusting.

The worst though, the absolute worst, for which no one had prepared him, was waking up in the morning, his body covered in sweat and his underwear soiled with pre-cum or worse. The first time it had happened, Yurio wanted to die from embarrassment, even though he was alone in his room and no one else could see him. The thought alone was humiliating and strange and the last thing he wanted to do was think about it, but his body, clearly, had other plans. More often than not he woke up with an urgent need to touch himself and find some relief in little fantasies. A lot of the time a cold shower would do the trick or a few extra rounds on his morning jog, but on other days there was no helping it and he had no choice but to make use of his hand. Of course, it wasn’t the first time he had experienced arousal and also not the first time he had made himself come, but before it had been a rare occurrence. Something he did when he felt especially excited or daring enough to experiment a little. But all of that was nothing compared to the frustration he felt when things were not going fast enough, when he had to wait until he was home or he suddenly got hard unexpectedly because something had caught his eye. He still prayed to god on a regular basis to never let anyone see that, especially not his rink mates. As much as he hated it all, Yurio thought he could get used to it eventually. All of it, except for one thing.

It had happened sometime in late August. Summer was in full swing and the city was suffering from an unusual heat wave. People everywhere complained about it, except for those who could spend their time by the sea, lazing around. The stupid Katsudon, obviously, liked it, as it reminded him of home. The rink wasn’t too bad, but Lilia’s ballet studio felt like an oven. He dreaded the practice, but it was necessary if he wanted to have even the slightest chance of competing successfully this season, so he had changed his clothes dutifully and then began to stretch at the far end of the room. Yuuri was there too, almost finished with his training for the day. Yurio still didn’t know how it happened, but somehow the Japanese skater had ended up becoming one of Lilia’s students after a few weeks in St. Petersburg. The former prima ballerina had taken a liking to him and actually tried, much to Viktor’s dismay and Yakov’s amusement, to persuade Yuuri to return to ballet instead of skating. So far she had no luck, but Yurio knew first hand just how persistent she could be. And if he was honest, he could see where she was coming from. Yuuri was graceful on and off the ice, but at the studio, on solid ground, his roots were showing. Minako had done a fantastic job - even Lilia said so - in training the Japanese skater.

Yurio found himself unable to look away as Yuuri finished his impromptu performance and slowly sank into a split. His face and arms were covered in sweat and his cheeks were red from heat and exertion. The air in the studio was stuffy and too hot and Yurio could feel how damp his own skin was already just from stretching, but he didn’t mind. No, couldn’t mind, because all his senses were focused on Yuuri. The way he looked, the soft panting, the heaving of his chest, the flexing of his muscles, his scent, which permeated the whole room. Had it been anyone else, Yurio would have been disgusted, but for some reason, he didn’t mind Yuuri’s scent. It felt clean and fresh, not like the sharp stench some of his teammates exuded. On the contrary, he liked it. He’s really pretty like this, the teen thought and suddenly woke from his daze. _The fuck? No, no, no. No fucking way did I just think that._ Yurio felt a bit panicked, but most of all embarrassed, even though no one had heard his thoughts. He finished his stretches and made a show of hurrying Yuuri out of the room and then opening all the windows. No, whatever that had just been, he didn’t need it. Didn’t need some weird thoughts drifting through his mind and clouding his senses, especially not when they concerned a certain raven haired man.

That night, despite his best efforts to just go to sleep, Yurio found himself turning back and forth in his bed. The windows were open, but the breeze was warm and did nothing to cool his body, which seemed to run on overdrive. He felt hot and frustrated, but refused to do anything about it. He knew that if he did, it would end in disaster. He would think of the little piggy (who really wasn’t anything like a pig, more like a graceful swan) and that was unacceptable. No matter what, Yurio thought, that would not happen. Ever. In the end, he sought refuge under the shower, the cold water eventually clearing his mind. He still didn’t sleep too well that night, but at least he slept. Maybe it was just the heat.

It wasn’t the heat. Several weeks after that embarrassing incident (yes, it still counted as incident, even though nothing actually happened, because he felt very much embarrassed by it) the heat had finally gone down and made way to the typical autumn temperatures, but Yurio’s predicament was still as present as before, if not worse. The blond couldn’t explain what it was, but he often found himself staring at Yuuri, taking in information he had never cared about before. The way the man moved on the ice, not anything fancy, no jumps, no step sequences, just slow figure eights and other warm up moves. How could something so boring and basic be so mesmerizing at the same time? Every time he caught himself, Yurio cursed and threw himself into his training even more, which caused many more falls than would have been necessary. God damn his suddenly non-existent sense of balance.

Yuuri, for all his usual obliviousness, eventually noticed that something was off with the younger skater and tried to approach him, much to Yurio’s regret. He really wasn’t in the mood to deal with the man right now. “Stop asking stupid questions, katsudon. Go and coddle your whiny fiancé.” He told him and stomped off, trying to ignore the uncertainty on the other’s face and the sad glimmer in his chocolate brown eyes. Those eyes already tortured him in his dreams; he didn’t need to suffer by them during the day too. How was that even possible? Brown eyes were common, boring, how could they be so mesmerizingly beautiful? Maybe he shouldn’t have listened to Viktor all these times when the poor besotted fool had gone on and on about the warmth and depth and fire hidden in the gem stones that were Yuuri Katsuki’s eyes. Apparently this sort of stuff was contagious. Disgusting, Yurio thought as he made his way to the other side of the rink. He managed to concentrate on his own practice for a while, but whenever he heard Yuuri’s soft breathless laughter, his attention was drawn to him. It was unfair, the teen growled bitterly, that a simple sound like that could send shivers down his spine and light each and every nerve in his body on fire. Maybe he should pretend to be sick and just go home. Who would care if he didn’t manage to qualify for the GP this year? Oh right, he would. And Yuuri, and Viktor and Yakov and Lilia and of course his grandfather. Damn it, too many people.

At the end of the day, Yurio somehow survived his training and even agreed, after a long and rather temperate shower, to come over to Viktor’s and Yuuri’s flat for dinner. He was a bit of a masochist, the blond had to admit. It wasn’t actually so bad. Back at his home, Yuuri was a lot less spectacular than he was on the ice or at the ballet studio, but he still managed to maintain a certain elegance even when cooking dinner. Viktor followed his gaze, a knowing smile on his lips, but said nothing. They spend a few hours playing video games and watching a movie after dinner and when it got too late for Yurio to go home, it was decided he would stay over. The flat had a guest room, which was basically his second home by now. Eventually, Yuuri and Viktor wished him good night and retired to their bedroom, leaving him with only Makkachin for company.

Since they would have to attend practice again early the next day, Yurio went to bed only a little later. He slept quite well for once, but was disturbed by his bladder early in the morning. Why the hell had he drunk all that tea before going to bed? The sun was about to rise so he glanced at his phone to check the time. Still another two hours before he had to get up. With a yawn, he got up and went to the bathroom to relief himself. He didn’t bother to turn on the lights, since he knew the way by heart, even when he was still half asleep. He was greeted by an excited Makkachin, who had been sleeping in front of the main bedroom. Strange, Yurio thought. He was sure the dog usually slept with his owners. The thought hadn’t even fully registered in his brain yet, when he heard a muffled sound from said bedroom. _Was that…a moan?_ A shiver ran down his entire body at the thought and he quickly continued his way to the bathroom. By the time he was done, Yurio was sure he had just imagined it, or maybe those two idiots made noises while turning around. Old people did weird stuff, he knew. Therefore, there was absolutely no need to stop in front of that door again. There was nothing to hear, he was sure, so why couldn’t he make himself move away and go back to bed? Why did he have to lean in just a little closer, trying to catch a sound? He knew why, but facing the answer to that particular question was something the teen preferred not to do. Maybe he had imagined it, Yurio thought when the only thing he could hear was Makkachin’s breathing, accompanied by his own. Stupid teenage hormones, he thought, before moving away. He was about to return to his room when he heard it again, a moan, only slightly louder than the last one, followed by a tiny whimper and a name he didn’t quite catch. Within seconds, Yurio’s face had turned at least fifty shades of red and he hurriedly returned to the safety of his room, seeking cover under his blanket.

Yurio didn’t emerge from under his blanket until the air became too stuffy to breathe properly. _Why didn’t I just stay in bed? Damn the stupid Katsudon and his fucking green tea and his horny fiancé who can’t keep his greedy fingers to himself this early in the morning._ Yurio cursed Viktor in his head. No, not just Viktor, the entire world had to take a verbal bashing since it was somehow equally at fault. The agitated teen turned around in his bed and tried to get a little bit more sleep before he had to get up for practice. That’s when a thought hit him – he would have to face them, face Yuuri and Viktor over breakfast and at the rink, and basically all day. He wanted to die. How was he supposed to talk to them while his mind kept reminding him of the sounds he had heard? That needy whimper that had sent shivers down his spine and blood to his nether regions. God, he’d better stop thinking about that. That would be for the best and yet…he was curious. What did Viktor do to have Yuuri make a sound like that? Was he using his hands? His mouth or maybe his tongue? He imagined Yuuri, writhing on the bed, his limps getting tangled in the sheets while Viktor peppered kisses to his chest, moving slowly downwards, inch by inch, all the way between those strong thighs. A shiver ran down Yurio’s spine at the thought and no amount of unsexy thoughts could keep him from getting hard. Not when he was so aware of what was happening only a few doors down the hall. Viktor was probably buried deep into his lover by now, rocking his hips back and forth in a steady rhythm, similar to Yurio’s hand, which had found its way into his pants and around his stiffening cock. Yeah, he could see them clearly in his mind. How boring, the blond thought. _Too predictable. I wouldn’t do it like that._ Words like these kept flooding his brain, evoking new pictures. Pictures of Yuuri sitting next to him on the bed, his fingers lazily trailing the lines of Yurio’s muscles, as if he were mapping his body. Pictures of him, wearing a flimsy costume not even Chris would ever dare to wear on the ice. Pictures of the man sitting behind him, his arms wrapped around Yurio’s torso, his hands between the teen’s legs, touching, probing. _Let me show you my Eros._ The Yuuri in his fantasy whispered and it was enough, enough to push him over the edge. Yurio reflexively bit his fingers to keep himself quiet as he came hard into his hand. He felt boneless and tired, but also satisfied. For the first time in a few weeks, the burning desire in his body had been soothed and once his breath had calmed down again, the blond fell into peaceful slumber yet again.

Desire made way to shame and embarrassment once he woke up to find himself in bed, only half dressed and the sheets soiled. How was he supposed to hide that? Cursing, he got out of bed and sprinted to the bathroom to get washed and dressed for the day. Thankfully, Viktor and Yuuri didn’t notice him as they were busy in the kitchen. Yurio could smell fried eggs and fresh toast, which made his stomach growl excitedly. He noticed another pair of sheets in the washing machine and shuddered the moment he realised that they hadn’t been there earlier this morning. Despite feeling quite disgusted, he quickly made his way back to his bedroom and added his own sheets to the laundry. Once that was taken care of, the teen brazed himself, taking a deep breath, and entered the kitchen, where he was greeted by two impossibly chipper men. “Good morning Yurio. Did you sleep well?” Viktor cheered and handed him a plate and some toast while Yuuri put the pan with the eggs on the table. “I hope you’re hungry. Viktor insisted I make enough to feed an entire army.” The smaller man chuckled and sat down next to him, causing Yurio to freeze in his seat. _Too close_. A sweet scent hit his nostrils, gentle wafts of Yuuri’s shampoo, he concluded with a frown. _Too close._ “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” Viktor addressed him again, laughing, when Yurio didn’t reply to their questions. He could feel their eyes on him, imploring, searching for answers. His gaze flickered over to Yuuri – was he judging him? Could he tell? The poor boy grew more and more nervous with every passing second and eventually blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. “How the hell am I supposed to sleep when you two fuck like rabbits first thing in the morning?” Yurio’s words were met by silence and his face soon began to feel unbearably hot. _What the fuck? I’m an idiot. Why the hell did I say that?_ Yuuri was petrified next to him, his face an alarming shade of red, while Viktor was still laughing (though he at least had the decency to blush a little). “Well, what can I say? Yuuri and I…” The silver haired man started but was immediately stopped by a vice like grip on his mouth. “I think it’s best you say nothing for once.” Yuuri whispered his voice dangerously low and calm. One wrong word now and the legend of Viktor Nikiforov would come to an abrupt end, Yurio was sure and so he began to busy himself with his breakfast. He didn’t fancy being chewed out by a miffed Japanese skater.

After a silent breakfast, Viktor and Yurio had agreed to do the dishes while Yuuri went on a walk with Makkachin. Neither of them had dared to object, it was obvious Yuuri wasn’t quite ready to face any form of conversation yet. Sometimes Yurio forgot just how shy and insecure the other could be. He wasn’t all Eros, but also Agape. It wasn’t the first time the teen wondered what his choreography might have looked like if performed by Yuuri instead of him. He was lost in this thought when Viktor eventually broke the silence. “So you overheard us, huh? Sorry about that.” The man didn’t sound sorry at all. “Sure you are.” Yurio scoffed. “I really am. I know how, uh…distracting these sort of things can be at your age.” He almost dropped a plate at those words, but managed to hold onto it for a little longer. “Good god, don’t even start.” The blond warned, but Viktor was unimpressed (as usual). “Aw, no need to feel embarrassed. We’ve all been through that. When I was your age, I had a big crush on my ballet instructor. That kept me up for more than one night.” Yurio shivered and quickly shook his head as if to get rid of the image. “Too much information, old man. I don’t want to hear it.” But Viktor was undeterred in his quest to humiliate Yurio further. “At least you have good taste. Yuuri’s gorgeous and sweet and lovely…well when he’s not angry with me at least. You did quite well for your first crush.” “I don’t have a crush on the stupid katsudon.” Yurio denied, his temper slowly flaring up. “Of course not.” Viktor cooed and patted his hair. “In a few weeks’ time you’ll have someone else to fawn over. Though I’m afraid it will go downhill from here. There’s only one person as amazing as Yuuri in the world.” _God, why did I agree to stay over? That guy’s bonkers. Head over heels and mad. Love really is a scary thing. I swear, I’ll never make a fool of myself like this._

Fool or not, Viktor was right. In the end, it had taken nothing more than a really nice pair of legs, revealed by a too short skirt, and long brown curls which cascaded down over slim shoulders, to ban Yuuri from his nightly fantasies. Yurio was glad. As much as he hated to admit it, Yuuri still fascinated him. He was just beautiful to watch and there was a lot to learn, especially from his step sequences. But he didn’t fill his mind anymore, not the way he had done for so long. It was a relief. Skating at the same rink would have proven too distracting otherwise. Viktor was the prime example for that. Yakov yelled at him at least ten times a day for worshipping his fiancé instead of practising. Hopefully Yuuri would soon marry the idiot and reign him in, so the rest of them could keep their already fragile sanity.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So that's it. Hope you enjoyed this as much as I did enjoy writing it. I'm planning a longer and more serious story but it might be a while until I post it. I can tell you it will be a Victuuri fanfiction. The plot is pretty much set, but I still need to flash it out a bit. ;)  
> If you liked my drabble please leave a comment or kudos. Thanks so much for reading. =D
> 
> For more Yuri on Ice ideas, headcanons and other things, check out my tumblr  
> https://roseofenglandstuff.tumblr.com/


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